Make Me Human
by MissMandS
Summary: To look at him, no one would think that Bilbo Baggins is a dangerous man. He lives in the middle of nowhere, doesn't socialize much and runs a bakery with his nephew. He even puts up with the group of bikers that come in every week without a fuss. He has the occasional anxiety attack and sometimes has a temper but dangerous, no. Werewolf Bilbo.
1. Chapter 1

Bilbo is never officially disowned from the family. It's never said but he feels it whenever Lobelia hands Frodo over to him. Nobody will meet his eye, nobody will look at him. The only person who will is the one he wishes won't. Lobelia stares at him and he wishes for once that it was one of her sneers, one of her glares.

"It's only right that you be the one to take Frodo isn't it? Don't you think its appropriate Bilbo, considering you were the one to kill his mother?" Bilbo doesn't flinch as his throat tightens.

"It was an accident. I tried to save her, I tried to help her, I tried." Drogo is looking at him now and Bilbo cannot talk. There is no sound in the room, no talking, no breathing as everyone looks away from him. None of them are saying but he can hear the chanting of murderer, killer, monster.

"Primula witnessed a part of my life I tried to keep from you all. The shock of it sent her body into an early labor and the attempted transformation was not something it could handle. She died of heart failure."

"Stop it. Stop talking about my wife like it was somehow her fault that you killed her." Drogo doesn't yell, his voice flat as he looks up at Bilbo.

"Then don't talk about your son like giving him over to me is some sort of punishment; this is your choice. I tried my best to keep you all from it. I tried my best. But some things are just meant to fail I suppose." As he steps outside, he considers for a moment saying goodbye to his family. But then he realizes they've already detached themselves and there is no need for any goodbyes.

* * *

Because apparently while I cannot write vampires (I tried multiple times and nearly banged my head against the wall) I can write werewolves, bikers and guardian angels all rolled into one. Yes, that's right. All rolled into one.


	2. Chapter 2

There are hands touching him, on his shoulders, on his back. They're pulling him up from the floor and leaning up against the wall. From somewhere in the apartment Bilbo can hear a baby fussing and tries to remember the name of the baby, whose baby it even is. But it's impossible to remember anything over the biting pounding in his head. The footsteps are moving around now, fading away then coming back. There is shushing now and the sniffling of a baby as something is shoved into his hands and moved towards his mouth, encouraging him to drink.

"Bilbo Baggins, what on earth happened here? I walk in and find you lying on the floor, Frodo crying…Oh my dear boy." Gandalf sighs, crouching beside Bilbo as his hands begin to shake. His tongue is covered by a layer of fuzz, his head foggy. He searches his brain in an attempt to remember what exactly he was doing, how he ended up here on the floor.

"Coffee…" The word is mumbled. Bilbo lowers his hands from his face, sighing as he looks at Gandalf. The older man is holding Frodo, his expression pinched with worry as he looks around the dirty apartment. There are piles of laundry, his and Frodo's, empty bottles and mugs with rings of coffee at the bottom, boxes of wipes and packages of diapers. Bilbo looks over it and gives a halfhearted snort and shrug, looking apologetically at Gandalf.

"There's not a whole lot of time for cleaning…" Bilbo says apologetically. The smile that Gandalf gives him is a soft one as he stands Bilbo up, slipping an arm around his shoulder and guiding him towards the couch. It's one of the few areas that isn't covered completely, the spot that Bilbo has spent the last couple of weeks sleeping.

"You're going to lay here while I make you some tea, not coffee. From the looks of it seems that all you've been having these last couple weeks are coffee. I'm going to make you some tea which you'll drink and then you and Frodo are going to nap while I clean. And then…Then we're going to figure out what we're going to do." And before Frodo he would have objected. Before Frodo there wouldn't have been piles of laundry, boxes of wipes, packages of diapers, empty bottles and mugs covering every single surface. So he doesn't even attempt to fight the older man as he's gently pushed down onto the sofa and covered up. With no more energy in his body, Bilbo only sleeps.

When he awakens it's with a blanket covering him and a pillow beneath his head, his mug on the floor and the spilled liquid mostly cleaned up. The laundry has been moved into two separate piles, one folded and the other piled up. The packages of diapers and wipes are nowhere to be seen and he imagines that Gandalf has moved them somewhere. He can hear the sound of running water and beneath that light humming. He sits up slowly, rubbing at his eyes as Gandalf emerges from the kitchen, Frodo resting in the crook of his elbow and some tea in his hand.

"You've been asleep for about six hours. How are you feeling?" His head is still a little bit foggy but the biting headache is gone.

"Like a new person for the most part. Thank you." He mumbles, accepting the mug of tea from Gandalf. The gray haired man sits down on the end of the sofa, crossing his long legs and watching Bilbo as he drinks. They sit together in silence for a while until finally he sighs; adjusting his grip on Frodo who begins to fuss.

"I think we should talk Bilbo. I understand that you're overwhelmed. You were already living a mostly solitary life and then you were suddenly told that you would have to look after a child whose mother…Whose mother you were not only close to but passed away rather unexpectedly. Babies are very hard work Bilbo; they require a lot of attention emotionally, physically, mentally and even financially. This is not something you can do by yourself. Your family will not help you and I know you well enough to know that you will not accept charity." Bilbo winces, shaking his head at Gandalf.

"Everywhere I go I see someone that knew Primula or knows Drogo or they somehow know someone who is a part of my family or is a friend. And they stare. And they whisper. And they watch me. Gandalf, they don't know. I know they don't know. But from the way they talk, they may as well know." Tears are welling up in his eyes, pinching at them and pricking. He stares up at the ceiling, blinking furiously in an attempt to blink them away. Gandalf doesn't talk, watching him silently. For a moment the only sound in the room is the rustling of cloth as Frodo kicks the air and his gurgling. And then Bilbo lets out a shaky breath that slices through the air like a knife.

"I hate them for giving me this curse. I hate myself for what I did to Primula. I hate myself for taking away Frodo's mother. She was only trying to help me and what did I do in return? I gave her the curse and her body couldn't handle it. The last thing her body could do was survive long enough to have a C-section and have Frodo. And then it could only jerk and twist, break her fucking bones and destroy itself and then make her heart fail. Gandalf, what was fair in that?"

"What was fair in making you a werewolf?" Gandalf's tone is even and leaves no room for argument as Bilbo lifts his head to look at him. "Frodo is alive. Primula's death was a very unfortunate thing, one which none of us could have predicted. I came here to help you and that is what I intend to do Bilbo Baggins. There is a place I know of. It is far from your family, it is far away from everything really. It's set deep in the woods. There's a house owned by this woman, Galadriel Nenya. I've known her for quite some time."

"Does she know about what I am?" There's a small gleam in Gandalf's eye as he ducks his head to sip his tea.

"You may just find that you are not the only abnormal being in the world Bilbo Baggins if you're willing to meet her that is." Bilbo looks at Frodo in Gandalf's arms who continue to gurgle happily, sucking on one of his fists and staring at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"I'm willing."

* * *

They go a week later with Gandalf driving and Bilbo in the backseat with one hand on Frodo's stomach and the other one resting in his lap. Frodo is sleeping peacefully; unaware of the bouncing from the uneven road they drive on. They've been driving on this path for nearly an hour and all he's seen is towering trees with branches in need of pruning and overgrown brush covering the ground. There is no house, no signs that anyone lives down this uneven pathway. Gandalf still continues his happy humming though, throwing the occasional glance in the backseat towards Bilbo.

"Don't look so nervous Bilbo Baggins. I would not bring you out here if I thought something might harm you." There's not a sparkle in his eyes this time though, mischievous or otherwise. Bilbo's hand presses a little bit firmer on Frodo as he looks away from Gandalf and back out the window. The car is slowing down but it does little for his nerves which are already frayed.

"How much longer until we get there?" Bilbo finally asks and feels like a small child when Gandalf looks ready to scold him. The car comes to a stop and Gandalf turns to face him, eyebrows furrowed as Bilbo stares at him.

"Are you ready?" Bilbo will never be ready for this, none of this. He wasn't ready to take Frodo. He wasn't ready for Primula to know. He wasn't ready for her to die. He wasn't ready for his life to spiral out of control. But still he nods and gets out of the car. Behind him Gandalf moves ahead, hands stuffed into his pockets as he hums a happy sounding tune beneath his breath. Bilbo barely notices as he struggles with the straps of Frodo's car seat while attempting not to wake him. He's mumbling curses beneath his breath, trying in vain not to rattle the seat when a pair of hands slips under his. They're bigger, the skin tanner and the fingers move much more smoothly than his.

"Let me help you. I used to struggle with Tilda's car seat all the time; my wife was the one who took care of all those things." The scent hits him as a breeze blows. It's strong and sharp, musky and raw. It's the scent of another werewolf, one standing right behind him, touching Frodo. Bilbo turns around sharply, his nostrils flaring and his fingers flexing. The other werewolf is taller than him, more muscled with longer limbs. He's tanned with dark hair and gray at the temple, his face grim.

"Gandalf promised me safety." Bilbo hisses. The other werewolf's nostrils flare, a variety of emotions crossing his face. He bows his head, taking a small step back.

"I will not harm you or your child. I have three of my own, two girls and boy. I'm Bard; Bard Bowman." He extends a calloused, weatherworn hand which Bilbo eyes distrustfully. Frodo is beginning to wake up and threatening to kick up a fuss in his car seat. Bilbo turns away from the offered hands and gets him out of the seat, lifting him to his chest and keeping his eyes trained on a tree trunk. Bard lets his hand hover for a moment longer then lets it drop, motioning for Bilbo to follow him.

"I'll take you inside." The path they walk on isn't any smoother, the trees no thinner. Bard offers no conversation as he walks over the rocks and tree roots, his shoulders straight. Bilbo keeps Frodo to his chest, eyeing the path warily and waiting for something to jump out at him. Frodo gives the occasional fuss but otherwise remains mostly silent as Bard leads them up to a house. Its plain brick on the outside, the shutters painted a dark green. The front porch is white, swept clean of any leaves or debris. It's fenced in by a screen, the inside holding some rocking chairs and lounge chairs. In one of the rocking chairs is Gandalf and sitting next to him a winged woman.

The wings are a shock. Bilbo doesn't notice them immediately. He's looking over the house, his eyes flitting from the roof to the shutters when the rustling happens. It's gentle as the beat of a butterfly's wing, accompanied by the shushing scrape of bare feet across the wood of the porch. The woman sitting beside Gandalf is tall, ethereal looking with long, golden hair with streaks of silver hanging over her shoulder in a long braid. The wings are what draw his attention though. They're a dark silvery gray, sprouting from her shoulder blades and stretching out. The feathers are smooth, long and shiny. Bilbo gapes and gawks; completely unaware of Frodo in his arms, of the amused expressions that Gandalf, Bard and the strange woman wear. He doesn't fight Gandalf when he takes Frodo who's began to continually fuss from his arms or Bard when he guides him into the screened in porch.

"Welcome Bilbo Baggins, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I am Galadriel Nenya." She extends a smooth hand. It goes ignored just like Bard's hand as Bilbo takes a small step away from her, sitting down on the edge of a lounge chair.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too." Galadriel doesn't look the least bit offended by Bilbo ignoring her offered hand. She lets it drop back to her side, her smile still in place as she crosses her long legs. Bilbo looks between the three of them, listening to the peacefulness of the air that hovers.

Gandalf has a small smile on his face as he pats Frodo on the back, not looking the least bit bothered by his continued fussing. Bard sits beside Galadriel's crossed legs, his expression grim as before. Galadriel has a small smile on her face as she nods towards Frodo.

"I asked Sigrid to get a bottle ready for him. Gandalf called me and I took the liberty of buying some of his formula." The names and words are meaningless to him. Worry is building up in his chest and stomach, threatening to explode and make him crumple in front of all of them. There's another werewolf here, sitting across from him and a winged woman, one who keeps smiling at him.

"Perhaps we should explain things to you. I have known Gandalf for…Well it's been years. There are others like me, guardians who have unfinished business on earth. We are sent back to complete it, sent to watch over those who are in need of it. And once it is completed, if we stay or return is our choice. It would seem that I am a guardian of werewolves." She looks towards Gandalf who nods sagely.

"Guardians are not chosen lightly. Galadriel was chosen because of her patience and unrelenting faith. Guardians cannot be infected, nor can they can be attacked by werewolves." Bilbo's eyes flick towards Galadriel and then at Bard.

"Have you watched over werewolves before?"

"I have been with Bard since his wife died about six years ago. I had been living out here in the woods for ten. We found each other on accident. I was wandering through the woods one day and he happened to be transforming." A sheepish expression crosses Bard's face as he looks up at the woman.

"My wife had just died and it was a violent, angry transformation. It was my fault she died. It was the day before my transformation and we were driving. I was on edge, I shouldn't have been driving but I was. My anger was terrible and I…I couldn't control my temper. I didn't listen to her and kept changing lanes, trying to get around someone. I ended up flipping our car. Tilda survived an emergency delivery by cesarean section but I lost my wife. I attempted to attack her only to find that I couldn't bring myself to. She just sat there and watched me. I felt a greater urge to protect her than I did to kill her."

"The next full moon will be in a week." Bilbo says quietly lifting his head to meet Bard's eye. There's a flash of darkness in the man's eyes but it disappears as quickly as it comes and then he's giving him a grim smile.

"Aye it is." He agrees and nods towards Galadriel.

"Gandalf has been in contact with me about your situation Bilbo. I offer you a chance to start over. Move here with Frodo, live with me, with Bard and his children. The forest is yours to transform in and there is a town about an hour's drive from here with a bakery that is for sale. You may start over where nobody knows your face, nobody knows your name, and nobody knows you." Bilbo sits there, letting the words sink in. Nobody. Nobody has to know him. He can be…He can't be normal. None of this will ever be normal. But he can have something different than isolation, a cluttered apartment and a place where people whisper behind his back and point fingers.

"A baby, how old is he? Da, can I keep him? I like babies." The girl can't be more than five or six and is fawning over Frodo who now suckles happily on a bottle. She is staring at him with wide eyes and a smile on her face, not looking the least bit bothered by Bard's hand trying to tug her away from him.

"Yeah…Yeah…I want to do this." Bilbo says quietly and holds his arms out to Gandalf, trying to ignore the ache in his chest over the sudden emptiness in his arms without Frodo.

* * *

I could use some positive vibes, warm, fuzzy thoughts...Whatever you want to give me. I'm going through a shitty, stressful time right now. I'm wondering what is going on with my life and just contemplating what I even want to do with it.


	3. Chapter 3

There is a mention of knotting but no actual knotting occurs.

* * *

It takes a course of a week for Bilbo to move his things from his apartment to Galadriel's. He and Gandalf go back and forth at first, moving things during the day and then spending the night at the apartment. But it quickly proves to be a waste of gas and a nuisance moving Frodo's things back and forth after two days. He finally settles for staying at Galadriel's, allowing Gandalf to hire some movers and bring the rest of his things out to her house.

Bilbo sits on the couch now, staring at Bard who sits across from them. It's been six days since he agreed to move here. Tomorrow will be a full moon, his first one out here. His first one with another werewolf. The room is silent except for Galadriel who hums as she puts a tray of tea on the table between them, nodding at it. She sits down beside Bilbo, crossing her long legs and looking between the two of them.

"The movers will be bringing the last of your things tomorrow Bilbo. Please drink something, your hands are shaking." Bilbo picks up one of the cups and wraps his fingers around it, not bothering with pouring anything inside. Bard looks just as uncomfortable as he does, his already grim face even grimmer as he sinks back into the sofa, looking down at his hands.

"Have you ever transformed with another werewolf before?" Bilbo asks and the shake of Bard's head does little to calm his thumping heart. "Galadriel…Have you ever seen two werewolves transform together?"

"I have. They were bonded together though as mates," This sends both men into coughing fits which she ignores as she sips her tea. "I do not know what could happen. Neither of you are bonded to another werewolf. I suggest that you learn each other's scents now, learn scents associated with each other. I'll be nearby if you need me."

"The children?" Bard asks.

"Gandalf will be helping us through these first few transformations." Bilbo and Bard exchange nervous, unsure looks but neither makes a move to stand up. Galadriel doesn't say anything as she stands up and walks from the room, leaving the two of them alone together. Bard opens his mouth then closes it, looking apologetic as he stands up and walks out, leaving Bilbo alone.

There's no more talking between him and Bard for the rest of the day. He goes into his room, lying on the bare mattress and staring up at the ceiling. The bedframe is up against the wall, the sheets and blankets still packed up in one of the many boxes that are spread throughout his room. Frodo lies asleep in his swing which goes back and forth. He has no idea what a full moon is, what's coming tonight or the fact that Bilbo is about to leave him.

From another part of the house he can hear Bard moving around and talking to his children, packing up things for tonight and little snatches of their conversations: 'will you be okay da?', 'it's just a camping trip', 'when will I be old enough to go with you?'. There's no response after that question. Bilbo stands up from the mattress, wandering over to the swing. He doesn't pick up Frodo, smoothing one of his fingers down over his nose instead and watching him with a forlorn expression.

"Bilbo it's almost time to go. Are you all right?" Galadriel's voice is right outside the door. Bilbo doesn't answer, continuing to run his finger down Frodo's nose as she steps inside. She comes to stand behind him, kneeling down to look at Frodo.

"There's a thing about not waking up sleeping babies. I left you his schedule on the fridge. Gandalf can help if you need it. He doesn't have diaper rash but I put cream on him anyways when I change him…He shouldn't need a bath tonight, I gave him one last night." His throat is constricting. Galadriel lays a hand down on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze as she leads him away from the swing.

"I know that it's hard to leave a child, even if it's just for a night. But he will be okay Bilbo. And so will you. I will be nearby if you need me."

"Can you guarantee that Bard and I will not rip each other apart? And that we will not…Knot each other?" There's a slight spark of amusement in Galadriel's eyes as she shrugs.

"There might be some scratches, no ripping apart. But as far as knotting goes…" Bilbo glares at her only to receive a small shrug in response. Bard is in the hallway, waiting for him. Standing with him are his three children. Tilda peers around Bilbo with an excited grin on her face.

"Is Frodo up? Can I hold him yet? And can I feed him this time since Sigrid fed him last time?"

"Frodo's still sleeping but I could use some help tonight Tilda." Galadriel begins. Bilbo and Bard use this as their chance to slip away and out of the house. Behind them the sounds of the children fade away, replaced by the chirp of birds and the hum of bugs. The two linger for a moment on the screened in porch, looking at each other before they nod and move into the dense forest that surrounds the house.

The first thing they do upon reaching a spot that Bard deems appropriate for transformation is strip off their clothes, slinging them up in the trees.

"Lost far too many pairs of jeans by not taking them off first," Bard mutters and then looks at the length of Bilbo's neck. "Galadriel said we need to memorize each other's scents." Bilbo nods and the two take hesitant step towards one another, nerves on edge with the pending transformation. Bard leans down as Bilbo leans up, their noses pressing against each other's necks. They inhale sharply and try to memorize the other ones scent. Bard smells strongly of mint, grass shoots. And then there's the musky, raw scent of werewolf: sweat and straw, of cedar wood. Bilbo pulls back from Bard with his nostrils flaring.

"You were scratched in a barn weren't you?" Bard's nostrils are also flaring, his eyes narrowed as he takes a small step back.

"On my back yes, the scratches reach from my shoulder blades down. You were scratched in a flower field. You smell like poppies, roses, mud and rain." They take steps back from each other, looking through the branches at the sky.

"What happened with his mom?" Bard asks after a few heartbeats of silence.

"I tried to keep it a secret from my family. I didn't want anyone to know but she worried and she kept asking questions. It was my fault. I didn't keep track of the time and stayed late at a family event with her and Drogo. I realized too late what was happening, claimed that I was having a stomach problem and ran. I ran. And Prim followed me because she wanted to help me."

"I realized too late that she was in the room with me. I'm mid-transformation, I'm screaming and trying to muffle it and I can't stop. And here comes Prim, gripping her stomach and asking me 'are you okay?' and saying my name over and over. And all I could think was to get her out of here for God's sake, get out. I yelled at her to get out of there. I scratched her. It was an accident but I scratched her and she ran off screaming. All I remember after that was hearing this yell over and over. Drogo demanding to know what happened and that he was calling an ambulance. I heard the word wolf and then I ran out of the room, out of the house, down the street and into this abandoned house." Bilbo takes another step back from Bard, curling his toes against the forest floor. The other man's pupils are dilating, his nostrils flaring. It will only be a couple minutes now, maybe seconds.

And sure enough it's mere moments later when Bilbo's back arches inward. Bard follows behind him, hunching forward and letting out a gut wrenching scream. Bilbo keeps his teeth clenched together in an attempt to keep from screaming at first but then his back is arching further in and he can't stop screaming; his shoulders popping out of the sockets. Bard is no better than him as his face contorts with pain; his nails sharpening and lengthening.

Both of them let out scream after scream as their bones are wrenched from the sockets and begin to lengthen. Their mouths are open with gut wrenching screams of pain as they attempt to catch their breath. Bilbo can feel his face being pulled, the snout forming and his canines sharpening. His visions sharpening at the edges, the blur of the transformation fading away as he lets his head fall back with a howl. Any names: Frodo, Primula, Gandalf, Galadriel mean nothing to him now. They're gone from his mind as he stares at the werewolf across from him. The only thing familiar is the scent of the werewolf. It has no name but is still familiar to him as it lets its head fall back, joining him with a howl.

The first thing that Bilbo is aware of when he wakes up is that he reeks of blood and his shoulder has a slight ache to it. Bilbo lifts his head, craning it to look at his shoulder. He frowns at the teeth marks, stretching his arm out only to hiss at the unexpected soreness. He's still naked but has been covered up a blanket. He lets his head flop back down onto the ground, scrubbing his hands over his face.

"Mister Baggins? I have coffee if you'd like some." Bilbo lowers his hands to look at Sigrid who stands a few feet away from him, looking unsure as she holds the mug outwards.

"You wouldn't happen to have any clothes would you? Or know where your father is would you?"

"Bain is coming around with clothes and I haven't found da yet." She doesn't quite come near him, stopping just short of him to set the mug down. She looks past him, at a tree trunk as he drags the coffee towards him. Sigrid remains silent as he gulps down the coffee, ignoring the initial scald. She waits until he's done, holding out her hand when he's finished with it.

"Does it hurt? Da won't tell us anything about his, only that he wants to keep it as separate as possible from his life with us. And that Tilda isn't supposed to know about it." Bilbo thinks back last night: on the bones wrenching from their sockets, on his limbs lengthening and the pulling of his body in all directions as it tried in vain to keep up. And he thinks of the gut wrenching screams that he and Bard kept letting out as their bodies twisted and turned, unable to fight their transformations.

"It's excruciating pain but once it's over and you're in the form, it's over and you don't feel pain." There are two sets of feet approaching them now. He doesn't have to guess Bard's as the wind blows, hitting him in the face with his scent. Bilbo wrinkles his nose as he cranes his head to face him and Bain who walk together.

"You scratched me on my thigh." Bard's tone is partly amused despite the fact that he grimaces.

"You got my shoulder. So it would seem that we're even." Bilbo says, holding his hand out to Bain who hands over a bundle of clothes. Bard nods at his two children who turn and begin to walk back through the dense forest. Bilbo watches as they disappear, sitting up slowly. His body aches but allows him to move freely. His shoulder gives the most protest though as he attempts to slip the shirt over his head.

"Is your thigh the only area that I scratched?" Bilbo asks as Bard helps him tug it down the rest of the way.

"As far as I know. There are some bruises, some small cuts and scratches. But I suspect that's from wrestling around. We killed a couple of stags last night too."

"Well that would explain why I feel so full." Bilbo mutters as Bard slips an arm around his shoulder, helping him stand up.

"So Sigrid and Bain know?" Bilbo asks after a few steps.

"They know that I have transformations on each full moon. But I don't tell them about what happens during the transformation, about the monster I become. Tilda thinks I take monthly camping trips. Sigrid leaves blankets throughout the forest, brings me coffee in the mornings and Bain brings clothes." They're approaching the house now where Gandalf and Galadriel sit on the porch.

There's a knowing gleam in Galadriel's eyes as they approach. She rises from her chair and opens the door, gesturing them inside. There's a tray of tea and bottles of water sitting on the table which both men reach for. Neither bothers with manners, mumbling their thanks as they begin to gulp down water. Galadriel watches over them with a smirk, her wings fluttering with an almost mischievous sound as she looks back and forth between them.

"I told you both that you would be fine." Galadriel says and Bilbo lowers his bottle, glaring at her.

"I got bitten on my shoulder and scratched Bard on his thigh."

"It's nice to see that you can still maintain your sparkling personality after a transformation Bilbo Baggins." Gandalf chuckles as he reaches for the tea. From inside the house comes the sound of Frodo fussing so Bilbo sighs, rolling his eyes as he stands up.

"Oh fuck off Gandalf."

"And there it is." The only response that Gandalf gets is a groan as Bilbo steps into the house and sees boxes of his stuff covering every surface.

* * *

Guys, my chapters are getting longer and longer! I can't stop :O

I think that I'm officially an adult now because at the park today these little boys asked me: 'are you a grown up because you're huge.' xD

Our biker gang of dwarves should be introduced (knock on wood) in about two to three chapters. I know that we will be meeting Dis in the next chapter for sure.

Allycat2090: I have several stories with a werewolf Bilbo. It's far too much fun and quite easy to write. And without giving too much away, he'll eventually learn how to accept what he is and that some things have happened that are his fault and have to be accepted for what they are.


	4. Chapter 4

Shorter chapter than normal...Sorry for any mistakes...After learning about Christopher Lee I'm not really in a editing, fun, happy long chapter mindset.

* * *

Two mornings after the full moon, Bilbo wakes up to his phone buzzing on the bedside table. His room is still not completely unpacked; full of boxes that he cannot remember what are in them. There are clothes spread throughout the room, on top of boxes and across the foot of the mattress. He can hear the sounds of talking from within the house; Frodo's fussing for an early morning bottle. But all he can focus on is the fact that his phone will not stop buzzing. Bilbo reaches for it and with his eyes closed hits answer and lifts it to his ear.

"Hello? Bilbo? It's your dad…I was just calling to see if you made it okay last night. I went to your house but there was someone new living there. You didn't have to leave son, I want you to know that…" Bungo trails off.

"I wanted to leave dad, the apartment was getting too small with me and Frodo in there. Besides I didn't have anyone to watch him if I stayed there." The silence drags on between them until finally Bilbo hangs up as his father begins talking again. Bilbo wanders to the dining room, his pajamas exchanged for fresh clothes and his phone buried in the bedside drawer. He is greeted by the sight of Sigrid with Frodo resting in the crook of her arm, a smile across her face as she watches him suckle happily. Tilda is taking up what little remaining room she has on her lap, one hand holding Frodo's and the other one supporting the bottom of the bottle.

"Sigrid and Tilda have really taken with Frodo." Bard says quietly from his spot at the table. His face seems even grimmer than normal, face twisting as Galadriel rests her hands on his shoulders.

"You have a meeting with the realtor who is attempting to sell the bakery today. One which Bard will be attending with you." The idea of going outside of the house, leaving the protection of the thick woods behind him and having to actually face people makes his temples throb and he would much rather go anywhere else. And judging by the look on Bard's face he feels exactly the same way. But Galadriel is staring at him, eyes narrowed as if daring him to object to her. So Bilbo grins albeit tightly as he mutters a 'great' and accepts her offered mug of coffee.

The drive into town is a short one thanks to Bilbo's speeding and Bard's directions written out for them by Galadriel. By the time they reach the bakery there is no realtor in front of it and Bard is digging for a pack of cigarettes from his pocket as the two men step out of the car.

"Which part is stressing you out? Being here in town or the idea of meeting a realtor, one who has no idea about what we are and thinks we're completely and utterly human?" Bard actually smirks at him as he pulls the unlit cigarette from between his lips.

"People are a little bit too friendly for my tastes." Bard says and raises his eyebrows at a passing couple who are quick to scamper away. Bilbo watches as he lights the cigarette and leans back against the building, exhaling the smoke from his nose like a dragon.

"How much contact with the outside world do you have Bard?"

"My children are as close as I get. There are plays, parent teacher conferences, shows I cannot attend for them all because it will be a full moon that night. My wife's parents still have contact with them. They take the kids each summer for about a month. I always tell them that I have to work or that I'm sick. What about you?"

"My mother was…Absent from my life when I was a child. I never even saw any photos of her until I was fourteen and that was because her family and I finally met. My father has refused to talk about her and so does her family. As for my father's family…I was welcome until I killed Primula. And now I'm nothing. I don't exist." It's almost funny when he thinks about it. The fact that he was alive for nearly twenty five years, living among his family as Bilbo and keeping his secret so very well hidden. And now he is dead. There isn't any asking as Bilbo holds his hand out for a cigarette. The two men lean back against the building and smoke cigarette after cigarette, blowing smoke from their noses and opening their mouths to expel it until finally a car pulls up behind Bilbo's.

The realtor stumbles out of the car as Bilbo grinds out a cigarette beneath his shoe. She is nearly twenty minutes late and the worry shows in her panicked gaze and flushed cheeks. For a moment Bilbo is reminded of Primula and his throat goes dry, locking up on him and threatening to choke him when he sees the dark hair. But then the woman is pushing it back and away from her face, yanking it into a bun and it's too long to be Primula's. Her features are too sharp, her smile a little too wide to be Primula.

"I'm so sorry that I'm late. One of my sons had an emergency, car battery dead and had to drive him to a job interview. Anyways, let me introduce myself. I'm Dís Durin, which one of you is Bilbo Baggins?"

"That would be me, Galadriel set up this appointment I understand."

"Yeah, yeah someone named Galadriel did. Anyways let me show you around."

That is the end of their conversation. Dís shows them around the bakery which is covered with layers of dust and dirt. Bilbo spots a couple of dead roaches on the floor along with a variety of other bugs and nasty creatures. There are some tables with wobbly legs and chairs that look like they couldn't support even Frodo and Tilda's weights. It's not the best bakery. Not something Bilbo would ever want to own in his younger days. But then Bard is looking at him, rubbing dust off his fingers and Bilbo looks at Dís who has lead them through and has a hopeful expression on her face. And something tells him that should they come home without a bakery Galadriel will skin them on the next full moon. So it's with a grimace and a thin lipped smile he asks her if he has to sign anything. Dís looks so relieved that Bilbo's throat clenches up on him again.

Making the bakery actually inhabitable is a team effort. The first thing Galadriel does is threatening to skin both Bard and Bilbo if they do not clean with enthusiasm and then opens up the windows.

"Do you think she means that skinning threat?" Bard asks.

"I would not put it past her." Gandalf warns as he changes a light bulb and suddenly with the bakery actually flooded with light Bilbo can see just how truly disgusting the bakery is. Giving a grin at Galadriel he grabs a broom and sets to sweeping up the dead roaches that litter the floor. After the first few days when everything has been dusted and the roaches and spiders swept and every surface disinfected the children are allowed to come inside.

After a week Bilbo is wiping down one of the tables when the bell over the door chimes. Stepping inside is an older man, his hair and beard more white than brown. There are some lines around his eyes and mouth which deepen when he spots Frodo strapped to Bilbo.

"I'm sorry sir but we're not open yet. It'll be another couple weeks before we're opened up I'm afraid." Gandalf chooses that moment to come up behind Bilbo, clapping a hand lightly on his shoulder. Bilbo lets out a hiss as the bites give a slight sting, glaring at the taller man who smiles at the stranger.

"Balin it's wonderful to see you again. Allow me to introduce you to Bilbo Baggins and his nephew Frodo. Bilbo is the new owner of the bakery." Balin steps forward with his hand extended which Bilbo ignores, one hand curling tighter around the rag and the other one on Frodo's carrier. Balin watches him for a moment and then does not look offended as he lowers his hand back to his side.

"It makes me happy to see that someone has bought the bakery. I used to come here nearly every day but then the previous owner got married. And people after that never seemed to live up to the standards. It's been sitting like this for nearly a year now." A sarcastic comment is working its way up his throat then Gandalf squeezes his arm and Bilbo is smiling at Balin.

"Yes well…My family enjoyed baking and I hope to share some of the treats with you all. Would you two excuse me I need to check on Bard." He does not wait for an answer, ducking away from Gandalf and moving back towards the storage where Bard stands, holding onto a broom.

"What do you know about the previous owners if anything?" Bilbo asks.

"Ah the very first owner was a couple and he passed it down to his children. One got married and the others all just kind of followed until none of them wanted to own it anymore. Other people just kind of half assed it until the bakery was about to be run into the ground then declared bankruptcy."

"Think my family would remember I exist then?" Bard gives him a smile that almost reaches his eyes and slips an arm around Bilbo's shoulder, squeezing.

* * *

Sir Christopher Lee passed away today at the age of 93. He was not only an incredible man but a phenomenal actor. I really want to curl up in a ball and cry over this. He will be missed by many fans, actors and people around the world. Thank you Sir Christopher Lee for bringing Saurman, Dracula, Lucifer and countless others. Thank you for what you did during World War Two. Thank you for being such a classy man. Thank you for the legend I have enjoyed and some day will share with my children


	5. Chapter 5

Poll: Hey guys, there is currently a poll for this story on my profile. Please feel free to go and vote on it. I will leave it open for quite some time to let everyone gets their votes in, answer questions...All that.

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The first couple of days after the bakery opens, there is an unending stream of customers coming in. Bilbo finds him moving back and forth between working in the kitchen and attempting to help Bard keep up with the demand while ignoring Gandalf's smirk. He dodges questions about himself from customers and gives them thin lipped smiles as he tells them to have a good day. And for the most part everything goes smoothly. There are some minor problems with the register and running low or being completely out of a particular thing. But still it's smoother than he expects. After a couple weeks of being open things slow down. Bilbo begins to recognize some faces that come in and settles into yet another routine.

At the end of the third week Bilbo glances over the mostly empty bakery. Gandalf is here along with Frodo who he holds in his arm, hand patting him on the back and a smile on his face. Bilbo chews on the inside of his cheek, watching as the latest customer exits with their bag full before he asks.

"Could I ask you something Gandalf? About my mother I mean." There is no hesitation in Gandalf's nod. "I know her name but I know little else about her. Can you tell me anything about her?"

"Well what would you like to know about her? Would I be wrong in guessing that your father has not told you anything about her?" Bilbo shakes his head and nearly misses the slight clench of Gandalf's jaw. There is a hesitation as he moves Frodo in his arms and then bounces him, lips pursing until finally he continues.

"Belladonna was…A very adventurous woman. She loved her life, her garden. She loved your father though he had to work for her attention. He made her a house, one they named Bag End…He moved out after," Gandalf trails off and clears his throat as the bell over the door dings. Bilbo stares at Gandalf, waiting for him to answer even as several pairs of footsteps approach him. He wants to hear the rest, considers sending Bard to the register from the back. With a breath that is one part resigned, one part annoyed he turns to face a very large group of customers. There are ten of them at least or more, all of them together and clutching helmets beneath their arms. He can smell gasoline, sweat and wind clinging to their clothes and hair, a musky scent of hormones which he suspects (hopes) is coming from the three youngest ones. Balin steps forward, pulling off his gloves and offering Bilbo a smile. The one he returns feels too forced, too stiff to be even considered polite. It's the smile that he has given absolutely everyone these past three weeks.

Bilbo opens his mouth only to close it as the bell above the door chimes once more. He is hit with the crisp smell of Galadriel's perfume and then the tall woman is stepping inside; smile in place and hair pulled back into a tight bun. Bilbo stares at her wings which flutter and stretch as the door closes behind her only to receive a small shrug as she sits down with Gandalf.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. My mind is somewhere else, what can I do for you?" Bilbo asks hurriedly and looks at Balin with the same stiff smile.

"I told my brother and our friends about you reopening the bakery. I've been hearing all sorts of good things from people who've come here. We'll take about…Oh, what would you say Thorin? Five of everything? Yes, five of everything please." Bilbo almost laughs and tells him what a small order this is compared to these past weeks. But he only nods and moves to begin grabbing their treats; snapping on his gloves. Balin and his group move towards a table, grabbing chairs and other tables as they go. The only one who remains at the counter is one of the younger ones. Bilbo does not look up from his work as the man begins to talk.

"My brother Kili is allergic to chocolate, Dori has a peanut allergy." Bilbo's hands hovers over the brownies and then looks at the plate full of treats. Wordlessly he holds the plate over the counter and to the young man. Snapping his gloves off he grabs a fresh pair and with it, a new platter which he stacks with no chocolate, nut free treats. Still the man hovers, rocking back and forth on his heels as Bilbo grabs his things.

"Is that little one over there yours?" Bilbo's patience is running thin at this point as he attempts to count the number of treats. He lifts his head and glances over the man's shoulder at Gandalf and Galadriel for help only to receive eyes gazing down into their teacups and at the top of Frodo's head.

"Yes, he is. More or less anyways, I'm becoming the legal guardian. Do you often bug shop owners about their personal lives?" He receives a grin and the man shrugs.

"Only the ones I happen to like." His face is friendly, framed by blonde hair which hangs loosely in a braid. His face is not particularly extraordinary; he has a nose ring lodged into his rather large nose and an eyebrow ring to boot. He could use a shave too, Bilbo notes. But overall he looks friendly enough. He's still lingering here despite his attempts to shoo the man away without actually saying it.

"I'm not really the type of person that is generally liked. I've no problem telling them to fuck off in all honesty. That old man over there, I tell him all the time." Bilbo hands him the plate and without another word snaps off his gloves, takes off his apron and walks hurriedly towards Gandalf and Galadriel. He sits down in the chair rather roughly and immediately holds his hands out for Frodo who is handed over.

"You only tell me to, as you eloquently put it to 'fuck off' every once in a while. This is usually every hour, on the hour. I thought you did quite well back there." Gandalf tacks the last part on quietly, lifting his tea to his mouth to bridge the gap of silence.

"Could I ask you something Galadriel?" Bilbo does not wait for an answer, leaning closer and glancing back at the table of people who have begun to wolf down their treats and talk loudly. "What do you look like to them? I mean…Do you have wings or are you normal?"

"I am the farthest thing from normal you will find that out quickly. I have the appearance of a normal human being to them. If they were to lay their hands on my shoulder blades, it would feel as if there was a buildup of scar tissue there placed by burns. But when they look at me I appear normal. Whether that is because they do not believe or because they are a human that is up to you."

Bilbo glances back at the clock and frowns at the minute hand which seems to tick more and more slowly with each little tick, tock. He can see Bard at the counter, leaning against the register with raised eyebrows.

"You look ready to fall over Bilbo." Bard says, not unkindly as he continues to watch. It's all these people in here with their clashing scents and loud laughter; hands smacking against tables and seeming to shake the very building. But he cannot say that with all these people here. He sees Bard's nostrils flare and knows that he is feeling the exact same way; silent sympathizing with Bilbo.

"It's just all these new…Scents, you know. The new body wash is not what I expected it to be." Bilbo says and they exchange smirks. On his lap Frodo lets out a gurgle and Bilbo sighs, giving his sides a squeeze.

"I've got to take him to the doctor. Bard, can you handle closing up?" And of course, Bard nods. Neither one of them says anything about the burning in their nostrils nor the fact that Galadriel's wings brush his arm sympathetically as he leaves.

* * *

The receptionist is all business with polite coldness, handing Bilbo over a clipboard with orders to fill out this line and that line. The only smile he gets is meant for Frodo, Bilbo accidentally turning him away in an attempt to keep his hold on all his things. It does little to relax Bilbo who settles into one of the chairs and drops the diaper bag onto the floor. With Frodo balanced on his knee and the clipboard on the other he sets to filling out the forms. Bilbo gets only halfway through it and then huffs, pressing his lips against the top of Frodo's head.

"These forms are bullshit. I love nothing more than the whole 'fill out this and that' but if I write on the wrong line then these forms are absolutely ruined." Bilbo's mutter is met with a snort from a bashful looking woman across from him. She is struggling to balance two children on her lap with a very swollen belly.

"Sorry but I can't help but agree with you. First time my husband Bombur ever came here, oh goodness the baby is kicking up a storm. The first time he ever came here, he filled out the wrong thing and called me from the bathroom saying he wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or scream. How old is your little one?" And in that dreadful moment Bilbo cannot remember how old Frodo is. He falls somewhere between newborn and fuck if he knows.

"I don't know, his mom…Primula kept track of all that. The months by month, week by week, day by day. She used to tell me about how this week Frodo would be getting his fingers or his spine would be forming…She loved that sort of thing." Primula's face is fresh in his mind, young and happy. So very eager to be a mom. So very eager to be Frodo's mom. Across from him the woman's mouth works but Bilbo does not hear it. He is focused on Primula's face that is just out of reach, of Frodo on his lap with the forms that still need to be filled out. He is focused on the nurse standing in the doorway, repeating Frodo's name over and over. The man's eyes flicker over the clipboard, thick eyebrows rising as he repeats Frodo's name again.

Bilbo stands up too fast and scrambles to adjust his hold on the clipboard which he almost drops, other hand going to Frodo's butt. The man steps forward with a squeak of his shoes and a rustle of his scrubs, taking the clipboard from Bilbo's hands in one fluid motion.

"Come Mister…Baggins is it? We have a room prepared for Frodo. I'm his nurse, Thranduil." Bilbo nods dumbly, his grip on Frodo tightening. He does not even bother with a goodbye to the woman as Thranduil leads him through the hallways. "Are you feeling all right? If you are nervous enough to nearly drop your child then I will assume something is wrong." Thranduil says.

"Nothing is wrong with me; I simply do not enjoy hospitals. You use an overabundance of bleach and other cleaning products. The product that you are using on this floor is the cheapest you can buy." Thranduil stops dead in his tracks, looking over his shoulder at Bilbo. He turns with a flash of silver hair and blue scrubs, fingers tightening on the clipboard as he stares down at him. He stares at Bilbo, lips thin and eyebrows raised until finally he smirks.

"I try and convince the doctor that the cheap smell is worse than chocolate smelling products but he does not believe me." Thranduil resumes walking, guiding him to a room. The moment the door opens Bilbo is overwhelmed by blue. The walls are painted a bright aqua blue with bubbles and dolphins painted there. Bilbo winces at the sheer brightness of it, squinting in an attempt to look away from it all. But it's useless, the blue will not stop and his retinas burn as if he is staring directly at the sun.

Thranduil mutters something about tacky colors and then takes Frodo from his arms, making a small shushing sound as he kicks at the air. He holds Frodo expertly, glancing from Bilbo and nodding at a man who types on a laptop. The doctor is nothing like what Bilbo expects. He has a Mohawk that is a mix of red and gray; his body stocky and muscled. When he turns to look at Bilbo he grins, clapping a hand on first Thranduil's and then Bilbo's shoulders.

"Well good morning, how are we all? Is this my first wee one of the day, ah look at his feet. Little fat toes and chubby thighs, the whole package of being a doctor." Frodo does not exactly look neither excited nor impressed about the fussing from the doctor who takes him from Thranduil's arms. Bilbo watches as the doctor sits back down, lifting Frodo above his head and grinning at him.

"Is he like this with all the babies?" Bilbo asks and Thranduil sighs, moving to take over typing on the laptop.

"I wish he was. Usually he is only like this with me." And for a moment his mind goes back to Primula and Drogo, their faces just out of reach, too cloudy for him to see clearly. Thranduil and the doctor are smiling at each other, almost warm with lips turned up in the corners. And it is almost like Primula and Drogo. But it's not enough for the cloudiness of his mind, the fogginess of the pictures to clear.

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